


That Look

by deathlikesdeep_dish



Category: One Piece
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, Headcanon, Light Dom/sub, Manga & Anime, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Reader-Insert, Sexual Tension, Teasing, reader interactive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-17
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-26 08:47:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30103356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deathlikesdeep_dish/pseuds/deathlikesdeep_dish
Summary: Written for a Tumblr event with the prompt, "God, I love that look."The tension present between you and Zoro has been building for a while now. If you give him that look one more time, who knows what will happen.
Relationships: Roronoa Zoro/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 54





	That Look

Every night, you trade glances. The table in the galley is an expanse that serves as a barrier, keeping the two of you separated by leagues but also mere inches. The first night you were on the Sunny, it was a suspicious glance. He was sizing you up, wondering what kind of person his captain had impulsively recruited. His lips were a tight line, his gaze narrowed, but it did not linger. His communication was gruff, a combination of grunts and scoffs that were vague and unrevealing. Any time you tried to engage in a conversation with him, he’d shrug you off, not even giving a moment of his training or napping or drinking time. He’d ignore you when you were on watch duty together, and go off on his own whenever you docked at a new place. You would have given up all together, of course, if it had not been for those glances. Those instances when your eyes met his, and he wouldn’t look away. When your gaze traced over the scar on his face, and he allowed you to do it. There was an intensity in those instances that did not exist anywhere else in your relationship.

Sometimes the looks were softer, and more melancholy. They were sad after an emotional day or when you all had been kept up all night listening to Luffy’s nightmares about Ace. When you locked eyes, it’s as if he was saying, I’m here, I’m sorry, it’s going to be okay. Sometimes they were angry, nearly a glare, after he’d done something stupid to piss you off. Sometimes they were warm and teasing after you both had a few glasses of sake. Sometimes, when you paired your gaze with a raised eyebrow, they challenged him, which he absolutely loved, and he would reply with a smirk of his own.

After a while, it became like a little game between the two of you. You’d see how long you could stare at each other from across the table before someone noticed. And when someone called your name, you’d look away and reply, laughing as if nothing had happened. This frustrated Zoro. Very much. Zoro was not the type who could easily hide his emotions, as he normally didn’t feel the need to hide them. If he was angry, he wanted others to know, even enjoying their presumptive fear, knowing that no one wanted to be on the other side of his ire. But flustered was the last emotion he wanted to show anyone, and you knew it. 

So one night, you’d decided to have some extra fun at his expense. He’d ignored you all day, as per usual, and eagerly sat down at the table in the galley for dinner. He drank from his bottle of sake before grunting out a thank you to Sanji. You had also been drinking, but only just enough to make your flirtations more daring. Throughout most of dinner, you refuse to look at him, though you felt his stare on you like a hot brand. There had not been a night in weeks where you didn’t look back. An excited pit low in your stomach begins to form, the tension building. You can’t deny to yourself that this is turning you on. 

You’d always been attracted to Zoro, and more than once had some pretty explicit dreams about the swordsman. You’d imagined running your fingers through that green hair of his, your thumb grazing the adam’s apple at his throat. In your dreams, you’d touch the scar across his broad chest, you’d graze the palm of your hand along the tops of his muscled thighs. You press your own thighs together at the thought and hope that he doesn’t notice your clear discomfort as you bite your lip and clear your throat. But he does notice. He notices everything that you do. He knows that you’re intentionally ignoring him. He knows this game and he wants to play. Zoro notices the flush that spreads across your cheeks and the moment that you press your thighs together. His own desire is aroused by the movement, a feeling that is not unfamiliar to him when it comes to you. He never takes his eyes off of you, willing you to look up at him. 

Despite all of the rambunctious conversation happening around you, the only sound you hear is the thrum of your own heart in your chest, growing more and more rapid and uneven by the moment. You’re losing this game, but your pride doesn’t want him to know that just yet. You know that if you look at him, he’s going to know where your mind has been. You know that you can never act on these desires, because you’re sure that he doesn’t share the same feelings about you. Why would he? He’s completely immersed in his training, or sleeping or drinking, that you’re sure that he doesn’t even have the brain capacity to think about you outside of your little staring matches. 

But you’re wrong. He thinks about you nearly every moment of the day. He thinks about your laugh, light and contagious. He thinks about your tenacity and determination, which nearly matches his own. He thinks about your smile and the first time that he saw it--how it made his breath catch in his throat. And he thinks about your body. In his mind, he’s run his hands over your curves hundreds of times. He imagines how soft your skin must feel, how supple your breasts would be in the palm of his hands, how pert your nipples would get under his touch. He thinks about the heat of your core against his own, and in the privacy of the Crow’s Nest, he allows himself to imagine what that heat would feel like around him, how it would feel to be buried deep insight you. 

He heaves himself out of this reverie, knowing that if he lingered there any longer, he wouldn’t be able to resist the temptation to leap across the table, taking your chin in his strong grasp and forcing you to look at him. 

_I might do it anyway._ He thinks to himself. 

Your resolve is thin. You know you’re about to reveal all your cards to him, the moment that you look up. But weeks of repressed desire and alcohol is a heady mix that you don’t have the power to resist any longer.

You look up. 

When you finally lock eyes with him, you have to stifle a whimper. His eyes, normally a light gray color, are nearly pitch black. His pupils are huge and his lips are slightly agape. You watch as his tongue wets his bottom lip and your own mouth goes dry. In all the weeks of this game, this is never a look that you have received. You knew you would become addicted to it. And that was a dangerous prospect. You force yourself to rip your eyes away from him, standing up quickly. 

You ignore the crew’s calls for concern, brushing them off, and making some lame excuse about having a stomach ache (which wasn’t completely untrue) so you could leave the room as quickly as possible. 

As soon as the galley door closes behind you, you’re in nearly a sprint to the Crow’s Nest. It’s the only place on the whole ship that is completely private. And you need relief. You’re completely humiliated by your desperation, and your legs are shaking as you make the climb. You finally reach the top and close the hatch behind you with an audible groan as you sink to the floor along the far wall. 

But your moment of privacy is only that. A moment. 

The hatch swings open forcefully, and the green-haired swordsman hoists himself easily into the room. He looks for you, his gaze finding purchase on your form almost instantly and he crosses the room to kneel before you. You can’t look at him, nearly weeping from desire and embarrassment. But he doesn’t allow it. He grabs your chin and forces you to look up at him, just like he had envisioned earlier. 

He moans. “God, I love that look…” He finally says before pulling your lips to his own. 

You melt into him, allowing yourself to give in to your depravity. You wrap your arms around his neck, pressing yourself as close as possible, aligning each curve of your body against his hard chest. He releases your chin, having no need to hold you to him anymore, and wraps his thick biceps around your frame. He sinks to the floor, pulling you with him onto his lap.

“Zoro…” You moan as his lips begin to pepper your neck and jaw with kisses.

He hums in response, alternating between sucking hard on your skin and then gently flicking his tongue over the same area. You feel your brain beginning to turn to mush and you wonder if it will liquify enough to actually seep out of your ears. Your whimpers only serve to make Zoro more feral. 

He growls and rips open the buttons of your shirt, suddenly exposing your barely covered chest to him. 

He looks up at you, questioning. _Another glance. Is this okay? Are you sure?_ It asks. 

You nod feverishly and flush as his gaze devours your body. He is hungry for you. He doesn’t waste any more time and pulls the strap of your bra down your shoulder, and pushes the cup aside. You gasp as his large hand palms your breast, a calloused thumb flicking across your peak. You instinctively grind down onto him, which makes you both moan. In that movement, you make full contact with his clothed cock. It’s already unbelievably hard, which makes you grind down again. He throws his head back with a loud groan.

“Fuck, y/n….” He manages, his jaw clenched. You capitalize on the opportunity, your lips immediately going to his neck as he had done with you. His skin is hot and salty with a masculine musk that drives your baser instinct insane. His hands clench your hips so hard that you’re sure there will be bruises. You want to mark and be marked by him. Your lips go to his ear, tugging on his earrings gently. One of his hands shoots up to your hair and pulls you away, forcing your back to arch so that your breasts are exposed to him. 

With another animalistic growl, his lips enclose your swollen nipple. Your hand threads through his hair, holding him against your chest as your grind down on his cock again. He moans again, and you’ve never seen him like this before. You have a suspicion that no one has ever seen him like this, which fills you with primal ownership.

He’s mine.  
He sucks on you and then swirls hit hot tongue around you. You don’t know how much more of this you can take. You need him inside you.

“Zoro,” You moan. “I need you, p-please…” 

He pulls away with a pained look, torn between wanting to have his way with you nice and slow or claiming you like you were begging him to. 

_Slow can wait,_ he decides.

Your dress is already around your waist, so he has easy access to your thin panties beneath. Never breaking eye contact, his hands slowly move to the material. He brushes his fingers along the inner seam.

“Goddamn,” He curses. “You’re so wet.” 

“Please…” You whimper, and he complies, pushing the fabric aside and sliding one finger into you with ease. 

Your body is on fire, the walls of your pussy molding to his digit. He pumps his finger a couple of times before allowing a second and third to join the first. You press yourself against him as hard as you could, riding his fingers, craving the release that you so desperately needed. 

“Do you have any idea how hot it is, y/n, to see you fucking my fingers like this?” His voice is low and rough. 

“I bet you want my cock, don’t you?”

You can’t answer, still rocking against his fingers as he curls them inside you. You’re already getting so close. 

He moves his other hand to your waist, and stops his ministrations with his fingers, forcing you to cease all movement.

“Maybe you didn’t hear me,” He ground out. “I said,” He curls his fingers inside you once for emphasis. “I bet you want my cock, don’t you?”

“Yes,” You breathe, wanting to cry from the tension building inside you. 

“Yes, what?” He asks, pumping his fingers once more. 

“Yes, I want your cock Zoro!” You cry out. 

He smirks. “That’s what I thought.” 

You have no shame at this point, and don’t even try to argue anymore. He lifts you for a brief moment to release his cock from the confines of his tight pants. It springs out, long and thick, the head seeping and nearly purple. He needs this just as much as you do. He moans at the way that you’re looking at his length.

“There’s that look again…” He lifts you easily, position the tip of his cock at your entrance and you begin to lower yourself onto him. Inch by inch, your pussy stretches around him until finally you are fully seated on him. 

“So...full…” Your head drops down to his shoulder weakly, your arms wrapped around his torso for dear life. 

“God, baby, you feel so fucking good. So wet for me…” 

You whimper. “I’m going to start moving now, baby. Is that okay?” He whispers.

You nod emphatically. “Please, Zoro, fuck me.”

And with that, he pulls himself out and slams you back down on him, his hands cupping your ass as he bounces you on his dick. His moans are delicious, fueling your own arousal even more. Your bodies are so close, the friction so hot it’s almost unbearable as he fills you to the brim over and over and over again. You begin to meet him thrust for thrust, and your climax is already building. 

“Zoro, I’m already so close,” You say, flushed with embarrassment. 

“Fuck,” He growls. “I love hearing you say that almost as much as I love that look of yours.” He begins moving more quickly, erratically. “That look that told me how much you wanted me to fuck you. That look that I’ve been giving you, and you’ve been too stubborn to notice.” His words are punctuated by hard thrusts, and you know that he’s getting close too. 

“Shut up and make me come,” You complain teasingly as you lock eyes again. 

He smirks. “Yes, ma’am.” As he thrusts, his thumb moves to your clit, circling and massaging it while his cock fills you up. Your vision goes blank as your pleasure begins to crest over you.

“Zoro, I’m…” You say.

“Me too, y/n…” He replies with clenched teeth. The two of you reach your peak together, clinging to one another. He holds you tight and strokes your hair. “Yes, that’s it...come for me…” He murmurs against your hair. Your release is equivalent to the tension, and leaves you utterly spent when you’re finally able to regain consciousness. For a long moment, the only sounds in the room were the sounds of you both catching your breath. 

“Hey y/n,” He whispers, his cheek resting on the top of your head, your limbs still entwined. 

“Mmm?” You hum. 

“Fair warning. If you ever give me that look again, just know that this will always be the result,” He chuckles.

“You realize that’s not really a discouragement, right?” You say with a laugh.

You feel his grin. “Oh, I’m counting on it.”


End file.
